All Tangled Up
by backdrifter
Summary: Sometimes you just can't help getting tangled up in other people's stories... [Marauder and HP era] [My interpretation of how some things came about, particulary amoung the Marauders and their peers] New Chapter! Chapter Four: Morning Revelations, please
1. It All Begins Again

Disclaimer: Most of the characters/situations belong to JK Rowling blah blah blah

Welcome to my fan fic! This is my second fanfic on this site, and I'm going to be putting much more devotion into it and not stopping two chapters in. In fact, I've already got over three chapters penned! I hope you enjoy, and, if you read it, would be very, very grateful for reviews, and will probably look at your fanfics, too. This isn't a bribe, I find it's easier to look at people's profiles to find things to read, especially in the favourites section. Anyhoo… Oh yes, if there are any problems with this, e.g. sentences that don't make sense, please, _please_ tell me and I'll change it straight away.

Enjoy,

backdrifter

**Chapter One**

_It All Begins Again_

_Blurred shapes move in shades of fresh greens, splashes of red and yellow and the sharp light of a summer sun. A blur that could be human climbs up over a ridge, and rushes to and fro, searching. Sounds of the wind in trees echo around, and a voice calls out._

"_Tom! Tom, where _are_ you!" cries the voice, feminine, tinted with slight annoyance and desperation, but at the same time with lightness and good humour. "Boy, come out, or, or…"_

_At this moment a second shape appears as if from nowhere and collides with the first, knocking it to the ground. A squeal pierces the soft sounds, echoing sharply, and the vague images fade into darkness._

I moaned in my sleep and clutched the pillow as I began to re-emerge into consciousness. Images from my dreams rose up in my mind and swam in a confusing mess. Faces, voices, laughs, places and a dozen other things gradually found an ordered place, and I catalogued them in my mind. Memories had been coming to me in my sleep recently. I had always remembered things about Before, but I tended to ignore them, not to think about them. They weren't relevant to me any more. At least until now, that is. Because I knew what was to come soon. A tapping on my bedroom window, maybe, early in the morning, in the kitchen at breakfast time, or at night as I sat in the living room, watching the box. The owl, tawny, most probably, if my memories were correct, would hold out its leg, dignified, businesslike, offering an envelope of thick, yellow parchment, sealed with wax seal.

There is something you must know about me. It is not that I m a witch, because I am sure you will have worked that out by now, but something a lot less obvious to the eye. In fact, even a witch or wizard would find this difficult to believe. I am very tempted to draw you out with a long build, putting this statement off for as long as possible, but the fact is that it is better to be blunt. Pull off the plaster straight away and be done with it, pain quite and sharp and than gone; just an angry red mark and some sticky substance that is hard to wash off. Ah, but you see, I am drawing out without the intention of doing it. What you must know is this. I was alive before. I had a different name to the one I bear now. There was a time when I was not as Natasha Jeeves.

In short; I died. Or did not die. I am not sure which is the truth. The closest thing to the truth, or thing that is least likely to be completely an utterly untrue, is if I say that my body died, and nine months latter what was Amy Greenwood before was born as Natasha Jeeves. There is not much to it, apart from that, unless, of course, you count what led up to my death, and, as I later found out, what resulted from it. When I died, when I became more conscious of the face that I _had_ died, I was not bitter, though I was sad about the life I had lost. I did not wish for time to turn back. I loved my family, as I had loved the Greenwoods before them. No, it was not until the time I found out the consequences that I yearned, ached for things to have been different. Guilt grew inside me like an abscess, bulbous and ugly and tender to the touch. Not that there were any clues that were apparent to me that could have spelt it out, but if I had acted differently, less head strong, less determined to get what I wanted, than things would have been so much better. Bad, yes, it would still be bad, but better nonetheless.

I am dragging you back to where we began. One bright summer morning in my eleventh year, what seemed like an age since when this era of my life had dawned on me before, I rose sleepily from my bed with memories of a past summer dancing in front of my half closed eyes, creating a half smile on my young lips. It would not be long now.

I descended to the kitchen where I rummaged in the cupboard for something edible whilst wondering how my parents would take it, what my elder siblings would say, and what lies I would spin for my friends. I had purposely found a school where none of my friends had applied, entered a few of the same tests for grammar schools and purposely failed, put my name down for same comprehensives which were far to distant for me to be accepted. I carefully planned my moves, setting up the easiest situation for covering up my soon to be absence from London. And than the piece de resistance; a creative writing competition that I had entered purely for the fun of it decided that I was one of the five lucky winners (I would label myself, modestly, the fourth runner up) of a complete scholarship to a boarding school… somewhere in the north of Britain. Perhaps on a small island somewhere. I written the story and shown it to my friends. I had spent the last year on it, trying to make my success plausible, since I had both played down my knowledge and certain skills had not been developed at Hogwarts on my first time around.

Now there was naught to do but wait, and I stared absentmindedly outside as I shovelled muesli into my mouth. We had a small garden, which my parents, for some god-awful reason that I did not understand, liked to spend the occasional weekend furiously digging and pruning and watering and all those mysterious things you do to a garden to make it nice. Today, however, was a weekend, and my parents were at their respective workplaces, my father a teacher, and my mother something rather boring that I am not sure what to call in the City, and by the City I mean the Square Mile, the original City of London, where all the big businesses preside. Outside in the half-light a honeysuckle climbed up a trellis set against a fence and I dreamed contentedly about what it would be like to return to Hogwarts. For a moment my vision was obscured by an owl as it flew past, which approached the window and sat on the ledge, staring intently at me. I pushed another spoonful into my mouth. I heard steps descend the stairs and my sleepy brother started to complain about the racket I had made when getting up. Not that I made much noise; my eldest brother, Samuel, back from university for the summer holidays, had always slept like a feather.

"… Crashing around the place like an elephant," he said. "Do you know how early it is? Are you mad…"

He'd stopped mid sentence and I snapped into full consciousness. I turned round and he stood frozen, staring straight through me, the blood seemingly haven drained from his face.

"Or maybe that's me…" he said faintly, before suddenly jerking to life, raising his voice. "Amy, you were staring _right_ at it. You are made. There's a bloody great owl perched on the window ledge, girl!"

It was my turn to freeze, but I thawed out in a second and spun round. Yes, the owl. I had seen it, registered it, but been completely unaware it at the same time. I stood up and quickly walked over to the window, noticing the enveloped attached to its leg. I started to open the window, and called over to my brother to help me push the window up, which he did willingly, though, admittedly he nearly dropped the window on my fingers when the bird hopped into the room.

"This is amazing," Samuel said, excitedly, walking around the creature. "The others aren't gonna believe this. Shall we get them? No, let's keep this to ourselves, eh? Anyway, they won't want to be woken this early… Hey, shall we close the window?"

"No," I said firmly, and when he gave me a look I added, "it's cruel, and anyway, it might go nuts on us."

"Of course, of course," he said. "No, you're completely right. Hey, what's this?"

Bingo.

This was exactly what I wanted him to do. He approached the owl gingerly, whilst I stepped back, pretending to expect the creature to act adversely to this advance. Samuel was quite surprised to find that it did not stir a muscle; it just looked at him disdainfully in quite a patronising way. He cautiously undid the strap attaching the letter to its leg.

"Hey, a letter," he said, gesturing with it towards me with a baffled look on his face. He read the address, and looked up at me, even more confused. "It's got your name on it. And your room; attic bedroom, it says."

My hands had been shaking and I desperately tried to stop them. I looked at the familiar handwriting; it looked like Professor McGonagall was still deputy head. I opened it, read it, though I didn't need to, and handed it to my brother. I was right, I knew it; I still had my powers. How could I not know? Those times when I was angry or afraid… well who would not get into situations where your magical abilities would reveal themselves with three elder brothers?

"This is a joke…" Samuel said. "But… the owl, it's so strange. You could train that, right?"

He approached the owl again and cast a scrutinizing eye over it.

"No one I know who might want to trick me like that could," I said. "Am I a witch, then? Do you think I am? Sam… do you think they _exist_?"

"I don't know, I don't think so," he said faintly.

"Can you remember that time Billy chased me round the garden with a belt?" I asked.

"Remember?" Sam said, a smile starting to curve on his lips. "Are you kidding? That stuffs family legend!"

"And you remember what happened next?" I asked.

Sam started to laugh, his eyes lighting up with the sight of a frightened eight-year-old me, and a completely baffled thirteen-year-old Billy.

"Why, you ended up on the roof of the…" his voice trailed away. "We never did find out how you managed that one…"

He picked up the letter, reread it, and than read it a third time, his brow creasing. He scratched his stubble and then cleared his throat and started to recite this letter.

" 'If you have any doubts as to the authenticity of this letter try casting your mind back to unexplainable events that have occurred in your, or your child's, life, particularly when they have been frightened or angry.' "

He looked up at me.

"Well," he said. "Yes or no? I'll believe if you believe."

"Like hell I believe," I grinned. "Who wouldn't want to? And it _does _explain a lot."

And that was that. Sam broke the news to the rest of the Boys then and there; at first they resented the early morning call, then they got pissed off over the lies they were being told, and then they sat in stunned silence. Billy believed first; the memory of "the Belt and Shed" incident had stayed with him. Christian took more convincing, being the most cynical of all three of my brothers, and the least trustful. He read the letter once, than reached for his glasses just to make sure that he had not misread any part. He almost ran down to the cellar to rummage around in boxes for an old magnifying glass, but Billy stopped him and reminded him that the useless plastic thing had been snapped in half years ago.

"Well…" he finally came out with. "I'll keep my mind open about this one."

Samuel and I called an official Jeeves meeting, and assembled the other two round the kitchen table. Sam hit the table with a ladle to instigate silence and bring the meeting to order. Noise dissipated and we sat with our full attention on our eldest brother.

"The issue under discussion at this meeting is principally the letter that young Amy received this morning," Samuel Jeeves said in a solemn and businesslike manner. "I originally wished a meeting on Amy's rather irritating new habit of rising at the crack of dawn, but I think we can all agree that the aforementioned letter is of far more importance."

A noise that could have been dissent came from the direction of Chris, who was current scribing away, taking the notes for the meeting. Officially, this was actually Billy's job, but Billy's handwriting would become increasingly illegible as the meeting progress. Why we felt the need to assign this task, I do not know, after all, we all had adequate memories, and the note taker, whoever it was, inevitably stopped taking notes shortly into the meeting. On this occasion, this happened faster than usual.

"So, we're agreed? There are three things we need to do. Reply to the letter, tell the parents, and go to this Diagonal Alley place to see if this is really a truthful letter."

"Sam, it's 'Diagon'," I piped up.

"Hmmm?" he said. "Yes, of course. Right. What's first? Well, I think it's mum and dad that need to write the reply, so we don't have to worry about _that_, which leaves actually _telling_ them, and then Diagon Alley. I think it's vital that me and Amy should be at both events, as I'll be needed for money in Diagon Alley, and I think mum and dad will less likely to think it's a prank."

Both Billy and Chris snorted.

"_What_?" said Sam, trying to maintain his seriousness, but not doing very well, as there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You're a bloody great liar, that's what," Billy blurted out. "Dad might fall for something like that, but mum sure as hell won't."

Sam chose to ignore this, and turned to me, asking me what I thought the best plan of action would be. I pretended to ponder the question, though in reality I had decided what should be done at least five minutes before.

"Well," I said. "Since we're not one hundred per cent certain ourselves, I reckon we should go to this, eh, Diagon Ally _place_ to confirm what we think we know, and then get something there that'll convince dad, and yes even mum."

No one complained at this, and within minutes we were all dressed and ready to leave, our passes at the ready, change-a-jangling in our pockets, and adventurous flushes on our cheeks. Though Sam and I objected to Billy and Chris coming with us (a family of one 'inexperienced' witch and three muggles wouldn't exactly be inconspicuous or easy to deal with, for me, in Diagon Ally), they were ready before us, _and_ leading the way.

I think I will leave out the commotion we caused on the underground, caught amongst the rush hour travellers, inhaling the fragrant summer armpits (my head was positioned virtually inside one that was owned by an overweight middle aged man). I will merely say that my borthers enjoyed letting rip talking loudly about magic etc. with the Boys, and we got some rather odd looks. Any Ministry worker, or non-muggleborn, come to mention it, would have looked on with shock, fear, and anger, but we knew that no-one in their right mind when this bunch of teenage boys and their pre-teenage little sister were being serious – they must be indulging the sweet girl in a game of make believe.

When we approached the Leaky Cauldron, Billy and Christian were talking about how they could not see the pub anywhere, so I leaned into Sam and whispered to him that I could, so let's loose them, as soon as possible. We did our best, but when we had failed to shake them off by the time we were passing it, so I was obliged to stop them and tell them that it was here.

Oh, how I wished afterwards that I had not brought even Sam to Diagon Alley. I will keep it brief as to what happened. We spent most of the day there, and most of the day I spent my time reigning in my three elder brothers as the bounded from shop to shop, fingering the merchandise. I did not even have time be reminded of memories on that street for the majority our shopping expedition, but in some quiet moments they rose up inside of me and took me unaware, and I had to dig my fingers into my hand until the blood came in order to stop a manic grin and a smile, or a shaking hand and a tear. I remembered about when I visited Mr Ollivander's shop for the first time, or the only time. I had not liked it. It took too long, the day grew dark, and finally he found a wand way back in the storeroom that had lain there so long that the dust had even penetrated the box in which it lay and was thick on it polished wood. Oak, phoenix feather, six and a half inches, good in particular for transfiguration. I had been good at transfiguration, but that is another story. Anyway, I had felt so uncomfortable under the gaze of that man for so long, disliked the way in which he spoke to me, and referred to the wands and the people to whom he had sold them. I did not want to see him again, and as the two younger of my brothers were talking to a group of redheads, I stole into the shop, noticed that horrible man was not there, grabbed the wand in the window, and scarpered.

I returned to my brothers and it seemed that they had made a few friends. There was a pair of twins Chris' age, and someone who must have been their brother, who was Billy's age. The elder of the three did not seem to approve, and sought an ally out in Billy, who turned out to be worse that his younger brother. Before I could take stock of the situation, Samuel arrived with a young woman who sported short, electric blue hair on his arm, introduced her as Nymphadora Tonks, and announced that we were going to lunch, and seeing Billy and Chris' new friends, invited them along. The eldest ginger boy, who turned out to be called Percy, a fact which brought a few sniggers to my brothers and I found it hard to stifle mine, protested, but the twins thought it an excellent idea.

This is what happened at the Leaky Cauldron. My brother Sam got the four boys riproaringly drunk whilst flirting shamelessly with this Nymphadora girl, whom I quite liked, and got quite boistress himself. I tried to calm everyone down a little, and draw attention away from us, to little avail, but eventually I gave up and joined in the revelries.

"You see," Sam said to Tonks, nudging closer to her. "Us, what was it you said you called us, again…?"

"Muggles," said Tonks, with an amused look on her face.

"Well," continued Sam. "Us, _muggles_, we have our own magical abilities."

"You do?" Tonks said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Sam said. "I myself have a particularly… _stimulating_ skill. You might say I have magical fingers…"

"_Really_? You wouldn't be up to giving me a demonstration some time, would you?"

"Up to? I'd be delighted… but we'd have to go somewhere more private. I have terrible stage fright… I _could_ give you a private sitting…"

I turned my intention away from these two, a mixture of amusement and distaste on my face, to Billy, Chris, and the red haired twins. The twins, Fred and George, were telling my brothers about Quidditch, and I turned away again, since the description of the works of the game were old news to me.

"Natasha!" said Fred, turning to me. "Tasha, Tasha, Tasha," he repeated, putting his arm over my shoulders. "Don't turn away… Tasha. After all, it's you who needs to know this, babe. A _crucial_ piece of knowledge for _any_ witch or wizard, wouldn't you say, George, my dear brother?"

"Absolutely. The _most_ crucial, even."

"Without a doubt."

"Even with a doubt."

They paused at this, but shook off the moment and continued.

"Quidditch," said George. "Is an international magical inshtituashon…"

"Except in the US…"

"…institushonon, inshtishwishshwish, instatishtion…"

"…And it's not like they matter."

"…_institution_!"

"So, I'm sure you can see it's vital that you learn the rules."

"Yep," George agreed. "Let's see… two teams… we have the keeper…"

George grabbed a menu and placed it at one end of the table, and on this cue, Fred joined in, grabbing three forks for the chasers. A few minutes later the two of them were completing their explanation. Fred waved a glass in his hand.

"So the shotglass..."

"Seeker," corrected George.

"Yes, the seeker," said Fred. "Is of the _utmost_ importance… he…"

"…or she…"

"…or she, can win the game with a single…"

"Wait!" exclaimed George, smacking his forehead.

"What?"

"We forgot about the broomsticks."

The two boys sat in silence for a moment.

"Crikey," said Fred.

The twins were not able to recover from their vital mistake, as their mortality almost immediately was made clearer.

I would prefer not to go into detail. Put in simplest terms, what happened was Mrs Weasley. Shouting, berating, rolling her eyes, she ordered her boys over to the fireplace, "AT THIS MOMENT", Percy looking self-satisfied behind her, and two awkward siblings, a boy my age, and a younger girl, hovering behind him. Mrs Weasley turned on my brother and Tonks, as they "SHOULD'VE KNOWN BETTER." I saw Fred disappear, after flashing me a grin and a wink over his shoulder, after his brother and into the fire. I felt my face go hot, and tried to block out the yells. The whole pub had gone silent apart from this magnificent woman. Even Sam was sitting there, his mouth hanging limply in stunned silence. I think "AND CLOSE YOUR MOUTH, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE BEEN HIT WITH A MEMORY CURSE!" was her final remark before leaving.

What a re-entrance into the magical world! No, this certainly wasn't the way that I wanted to begin again.


	2. Between a Hiss and a Roar

**Chapter Two**

_Between a Hiss and a Roar _

First on the station platform, before even the train had arrived, Amy Greenwood moved her trunk to where the middle of the train would be. She hated saying goodbye to her family before the beginning of term, so she had gone on her own, taking her trunk and her owl on the tube and exposing herself to dozens of dodgy looks. She opened her cage and let her tawny owl out to stretch his wings; a leaving present from her parents for her second year at Hogwarts. This was merely because she could not think of a name, and in the meantime she had been calling him 'boy', and the creature had started answering to this name. Now she spoke his name softly and started speaking about what Hogwarts was like, though she knew that Boy could not understand.

"You'll sleep with the other owls, Boy," Amy said. "But you can visit me when you want. I live in bowls of the castle, but you can get to my room through a window in the cliff."

Boy stretched his wings and yawned, before nipping Amy's sleeve and flying off. She looked up to see two teenage boys coming through the barriers. Both had black hair, one, the younger, was skinnier than his elder brother, though not much shorter, and the elder sported a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Leave me alone," said the younger.

"Yeah," said the elder. "I'll leave you alone when you stop being such a narrow-minded fool."

The younger noticed Amy and made a beeline for her, calling her name and leaving his brother behind. Though they had not spoken much in the year that Amy had attended Hogwarts, the boy had recognised her from his house.

"Gree- er, Amy!" he shouted, pushing his trolley towards her.

"Hi, Regulus," Amy said, trying to suppress a smile. "Good summer?"

"As good a summer as anyone can have with someone like my brother," Regulus spat, glancing at his brother with a dirty look on his thirteen-year-old face. He turned back to Amy. "What about you?" he asked courteously, a friendlier tone warming his voice.

"Good," Amy replied. "It's nice getting away from schoolwork…"

"Yeah, you're right about that," he said. Then he grinned. "Done the homework?"

"Most of it," Amy said, screwing up her face. "I forgot about it once I got off the train. Had two days to do it."

"Yeah, me too…" said Regulus, "but I left it 'til last night. I don't think most of it is up to standard. Still, but done badly instead of not done at all."

"Hmm…" Amy said, and an awkward silence fell.

Regulus took sharp intake of breath as if to start speaking, but he just let it out again. He was desperately trying to think of something to say, particularly conscious of his brother being about to see their lack of animated conversation. Amy placidly watched Boy soar around in the roof of the station.

"Wasn't it you who gave yourself wings last year?" he finally asked.

"What?" she said, jumping out of her daze. "Oh, yes, that. Yeah, that was me!"

"That was some piece of transfiguration," he said, genuinely impressed. "It was inspired."

"Well, thanks," Amy said, blushing and laughing a little. "But I couldn't turn myself back again. I couldn't hold my wand, so I had to go to the hospital. It wasn't my idea anyway."

"Still," said Regulus. "How many people can say that they've _flown_ up to the hospital wing?"

"I only did that 'cause I couldn't fit through the door, Regulus."

They both laughed, and Regulus quickly looked towards his brother. He had now been joined by another boy his aged, shorter, a little chubby, with brown hair. He turned back to Amy and smiled.

"Call me Reggie," he said. "Regulus is way to formal."

"Alright, Reggie," Amy said. "…that was so embarrassing, though. I only did it because I'd lost a… well, not exactly a bet, but something like that."

We will leave these two alone for now; nothing important is said here, nothing important happens. Their respective friends arrive, as does the train, and they board and sit in separate carriages. We will move our perspective away from them, to a young boy with blond hair, his mother, and his father, who himself bore a head of darker hair and neatly trimmed moustache.

"Don't worry," said the woman. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"Yes," said the man. "Don't step outside the rules; they're there for a reason. You don't want to upset your mother by getting hurt, do you?"

"Of course not, father," said the boy.

"We want you in one piece, Barty, dear," said his mother.

Barty nodded and tightened his grip on the bars on his trolley. The barrier to platform nine and three quarters loomed up in front of his tiny frame. He held his breath and bit his lip.

"Darling," said Mr Crouch to his wife. "Take the trolley through to the platform, I want a word with the boy before he leaves."

Mrs Crouch hesitated before agreeing, and she took the trolley from Barty's hands and walked through the barrier when Mr Crouch indicated that it was safe to do so. When she had gone he turned to his son and put a hand on his shoulder, applying a little pressure so that the boy would walk beside him. To their right the 10:51 to Glasgow was pulling out of the station.

"Bartemis," he said. "I've tried to be a good father. I've been able to govern you fairly, I believe, and instil in you respect for magical law and a decorum and sense of propriety."

Barty looked at his father, and than past him through windows at the people who were rushing past them at an ever increasing speed.

"But now you're going away," continued Mr Crouch. "I won't be able to guide you all the time. I want to remind you of the importance of upholding the rules that Hogwarts lays down on its students. Breaking them can lead to terrible things…"

A faraway look entered Mr Crouch's eyes and something in his voice wavered. Young Barty's attention returned to his father, and he looked at him curiously.

"I myself made a mistake," Mr Crouch continued. "I… no, I shouldn't call it a mistake. The intention was in the deed, and it had been made clear that the deed was no good. I won't go into detail now, maybe when you're older, but bad things resulted from it. That is why you must not follow the same route as my younger self. Obey the rules. And you know why we should do this, Bartemius?"

"Because the rules have been made for a reason," piped up the boy.

Mr Crouch looked proudly at his young son, and clapped his hands on either shoulder, looking straight at him.

"Yes, I think you understand," said the man, turning and walking back towards the entrance to their platform. "You'll do fine."

Father and son walked the rest of the way in silence, the boy wondering about what happened all those years before.

By the time Bartemis Crouch Junior had found his mother in the throng and retrieved his luggage, it was time to kiss her goodbye and leave. Barty resented the fact that he had been stolen precious minutes to say goodbye to his mother, but his conversation with his father still intrigued him, and the child regarded his father's somewhat repetitive wisdom as of importance. As he turned his back on her and hurried towards a door to a carriage, Mrs Crouch stretched out a hand and touched his hair with her fingers. Barty did not look back, but when he had heaved his trunk onto the train he touched the top of his head with his hand and his eyes welled up with tears. It was a difficult experience for an eleven-year-old to leave his home and his family and know that he would not see them for nearly three months. But he quickly wiped his tears away as they spilled over the rims of his eyes and moved down the carriage. He passed full compartment after full compartment, his question of "is their any room?" was answered almost before he asked them with shakes of the heads, apologetic sorries, or blunt nos.

Soon students started bustling up and down the corridor, and he struggled to get past.

"Excuse me," he finally said to a passing fourth year, drawing on all his courage. "Er… do you know where any free seats are?"

The student paused, and looked at the first year with tired but soft eyes and light brown hair.

"Seats?" he said. "Yeah, there's plenty further down the train… this end's always stuffed cause it's near the entrance…"

"Thank you," said Barty, and they exchanged smiles, the fourth year wished him luck, and they went on their way in opposite directions.

The first compartment with free seats was actually half empty. The door was open and a girl with dark, wavy hair stood leaning against its frame talking to the inhabitants of the compartment.

"I haven't thought about that," the girl said. "Maybe…"

"Are you kidding," a boy's voice replied from within. "You're a fantastic flier… you wouldn't even need to worry about getting a decent broomstick."

"Yeah, just flap your arms," second boy added, laughing. "But how would you catch the ball?"

"She could catch it in her beak," a third voice, this time a girl's, giggled.

"Ha ha," said the girl in the doorway. "Very funny, I'm sure you… hullo, what are you looking for?"

"A seat," Barty said, and then blushed in embarrassment. "I mean, I'm looking for a seat."

The girl laughed.

"You poor darling," she said, grinning, before realising herself. "There's room in here, if you guys don't mind? Do a good deed, you might get something back…?"

There was a general mumbling of agreement, and a stronger one from the first voice, and the girl at the door stepped backwards to let Barty through.

"I'm Amy Greenwood, by the way," said the girl. "This is Isaac Avery," she gestured to a tall boy with dark hair, who flashed a half hearted smile, "Cassius Vane," a boy immaculately dressed with well kept light coloured hair nodded and raised a hand, "Marianne Bones" a blonde girl with a round face, who waved, "Elsibet Scortop," another girl, this time with black hair and slightly stuck up nose in one sense, and, by the look of it, a very stuck up nose in another, inclined her head slightly, and finally Greenwood gestured to a boy by the window with black hair, "Regulus Black…", grinned at him. "Er… sorry, who are you?"

"Bartemius Crouch, Junior," Barty said, trying to remember the names he had just been told. There was a rustle in the compartment, and Black and Avery exchanged looks. Everyone seemed a lot more interested in this boy, now. No doubt, Barty thought, they had read his father's name in the Daily Prophet concerning his rather controversial views and the measures he was trying to introduce.

"Why don't you sit down, Bartemius?" Scortop suggested.

"Yes, next to me, there's a space," Avery said, nudging Vane along the way.

"Th-thank you," Barty managed to stutter.

"Our pleasure," Scortop said. "We remember it was like being a first year, don't we Reg?"

"What?" said Black. "Oh, yeah, we remember. Terrifying."

"But you'll be sorted by the end of the day," said Greenwood. "And then you'll start feeling at home."

"Yeah, almost like receiving a whole new family," added Black.

"Of hundreds, almost," Greenwood grinned.

"Especially those in your year," Scortop slipped in.

Barty looked from door to window as they spoke, and than to Scortop, who than drew Bones into the conversation. While Barty was listening to these two, Avery leant forward and whispered something in Black's ear who shrugged and nodded, and when Avery leaned behind Barty, who seemed a little slow and oblivious, though who was probably just dazed from the situation, to whisper something to Vane, Vane smirked and nodded his head, too.

"Barty, kid," said Avery enthusiastically. "I can call you Barty…? Fantastic. I think us lot should take you onboard, and give you a little crash course on Hogwarts."

"Excellent idea, Isaac," said Black. "What do you guys think?"

"Brilliant," said Scortop.

"I'm up for it," said Vane.

"Me too," said

There was a silence and an expectant look at Greenwood who shrugged.

"I've got to go back to my own compartment soon," she said. "I can't hang around all day."

There was a snort from Scortop, but Black spoke over the top of it.

"Well, before you go, why don't you tell young Barty here about the merits of Slytherin?"

"Why not?"

"That's one of the houses, right?" asked Barty, who was feeling a lot better than he had done a few minutes earlier.

"Sure is," said Avery.

"The best," Vane added.

"Do you know the other houses' names, Barty?" asked Avery, a bit patronisingly.

"Yeah, Gryffindor, my dad's house," said Barty. "Errr… Ravenclaw, and, uh, Huff-, Huff…"

"…Hufflepuff," finished Vane. "But you don't need to know that one."

"No, it's not really that important," Scorto

"Exactly, which brings us back to Slytherin," said Vane.

"So," said Regulus. "Young Amy Greenwood, could you tell us what you think of the house of the great Salazar Slytherin?

"Well, Slytherin does leave the other houses behind for miles."

"That's a load of dragon's dung," said a voice. Greenwood turned around to see the elder Black boy, Sirius, and two other Gryffindors behind him, one of them the boy who had spoken to Barty in the corridor.

"You found a seat alright, then?" the brown haired boy asked Barty.

"Yes, thanks," said Barty. The other two looked at the first year with interest.

"What are you doing, Black?" interrupted a second boy, scowling. "Trying to corrupt an innocent first year?"

"Don't call him Black, James," said Sirius to the second boy. "I don't need to be reminded that we're related."

"Sorry. But what _can_ I call him, then?" asked James.

"I dunno," shrugged Sirius Black. "He seems to like 'Weggikins.'"

"Shut up, Sirius," Regulus snapped.

"Oooo, touchy," Sirius scolded.

"What _will_ your mother think, Weggikins?" James asked Sirius before turning to Regulus, directing this last bit at him.

Regulus stamped his foot and glared out of the window.

"Look…" Sirius began, turning to Barty Crouch and then wavering, trying to find a name.

"Barty," prompted Greenwood. Sirius scowled at the girl.

"Look, Barty," said Sirius. "You can't trust these people. I should know, I live with one of them," at this point Regulus kicked the wall of the train, and his seat ejected him across the compartment into Avery's arms, a voice proclaiming the words "No vandalism!"

Sirius and James burst into laughter and their companion, none other than Remus Lupin, tried hard to stifle his, but with little effect. Regulus got up, dusted himself down, and went back to staring moodily out of the window.

"What's wrong, Weggie?" asked Sirius. "Embarrassed yourself in front of your ickle first and second year friends?"

"Hey, watch it," Greenwood said, drawing herself up.

"Oh, look, Weggie," Potter grinned. "You're second year friend is more courageous than you."

"Ah, but what do you expect of Slytherin?" Sirius mused.

"Yes, good point…"

"Oh, I haven't got time for this," Greenwood muttered with a roll of her eyes. "Bye Barty, Reggie, guys."

She turned away but stopped when she hear James Potter speaking loudly.

"Ah, she is a coward after all, poor thing."

Greenwood spun round and drew her wand, pointing it casually at Potter.

"Watch it, Potter," she said, before turning round again.

"She sure told you, James," laughed Lupin.

"Oh, don't you start," snapped Potter. "Anyway, what can a second year do to a fourth year?"

"She's not any old second year," Regulus said, finally tearing himself away from the window. "She was that one who transformed her arms into wings last exam time. Not many fourth years could do that."

"Really?" said James. "You hear that, Moony?"

"I hear," he said.

"Me too. Let's leave this lot alone, boys," said Sirius, before turning and continuing on his way.

"Good luck, Barty," Lupin said before following his two friends. "Wherever you end up."

"Thanks," said the boy, trying to keep up with what was happening. When they were gone, Regulus sat up straighter.

"Regulus, you really are spineless," said Isaac Avery.

"Don't call him that," Elsibet said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"And I didn't see you doing much just then," added Marianne.

"Well, it's not my battle to fight, is it?" Isaac retorted.

"If he were my brother, I would've cursed him," Cassius sneered.

"Leave him alone," snapped Elsibet.

"Don't waste your breath, Isaac," said Regulus. "You didn't before, and I don't see why you should now."

"I _said_ it was your battle, didn't I…?"

"I'll remember that in future when you're being barbequed by a dragon for his lunch."

"Fine, be like that, at least I don't go around making eyes at dirty half bloods."

"I wasn't…"

"Yeah, why did you have to start talking to _her_?" Elsibet said, turning on Regulus.

"And how do you know she's a…?"

"God almighty, Reg, do you recognise her surname?" Isaac interjected.

"That doesn't mean…"

"Yeah it does," said Cassius. "Her dad's obviously a muggle."

"STOP INTERUPTING ME!"

Amy Greenwood slowed down once she had entered the next carriage. She decidedly pointedly that everyone she had left behind, with the exception of Barty, and maybe that Lupin boy, and at a stretch Reggie, were a bunch of idiots. Her grip on her wand relaxed and she returned it to her pocket. She continued down the train at a leisurely pace, checking compartments for people she knew and chatting occasionally, and looking for one person in particular. She had not got far however, when she heard her name being called.

"Hey, Greenwood!"

It was Potter and his friends.

"What do you want, _now_?"

"Just a chat," grinned Sirius.

"A nice friendly chat," Lupin said..

Amy Greenwood looked at them suspiciously.

"Go on."

"Amy, Amy, Amy," said Sirius. "You say that as if we're after something."

"You're not?"

"We just want to pass on a little message," said James.

"Yeah, old Slughorn was asking about that…what was he called her, James?" Sirius asked casually.

"I think it was 'brilliant and inspired', Sirius."

"Yes, that was it, the 'brilliant and inspired' first year who gave herself wings at the end of last year. He couldn't find out who it was, apparently Dumbledore was reluctant to tell him… Anyway, he wanted you to come to one of his parties, and told us that if we knew who it was, to tell him, and to tell _her_ that she was invited."

"Well I don't like the man. I'd rather you didn't tell him it was me, if that's ok," Amy said through gritted teeth, eyeing Lupin who had his eyes fixed on her with and earnest expectation.

"Oh of course not…" Lupin said. "We just need a little favour…"


	3. Talons

**Chapter Three**

_**Talons**_

Nervousness gripped me on the train. I was going to see it again. You do not know how hard this was for me. I was going to come into contact with people who knew _him_, the love of my short, short life, and I could not talk to them about him. I had never been able to talk about him to anyone. I had mourned in silence as a small child who did not understand what I was mourning for. And there was always the chance that I would see him. I had thought about that at Diagon Alley. Even though it was impossible that he could recognise me, I was afraid of a confrontation of the "but…but I thought you were dead" variety. I suppose that was the reason I was so anxious about the scene my family were making.

The last time I was on the eleven o'clock Hogwarts Express from Kings Cross drifted into my mind. We were together by then, though there was a time when I thought we would be the last people who would be an item. He, unlike some people that I had been unfortunately involved with, did not have a problem with my heritage. Being a Slytherin, statistics meant that the circles I moved in were like this. He had left his friends, who were whispering, no doubt, "how could you, she's a _Slytherin_" to him, to sit with me. In these times, traditional rivalries between houses were strengthening. He had his eyes closed, sleeping, I think, and his head rested upon my shoulder. He had had a hard time with his family in intervening week and a half since we had last seen each other, and I knew something had happened. He would not tell me, though "later" he had said, and closed his eyes, burrowing his head into my neck and whispering about how he had missed me and how sleepy he was. He had not gotten much sleep. One other thing jumps up in my mind about that particular journey. Regulus Black passed our compartment, and he glanced in at us and gave us a mean, contemptuous look, full of poison and resentment. The irony of that look struck me later when I found out the events that were later to unravel, an irony of reversed roles and people not seeming to be who I thought they were.

I decided to keep away from memories and focus on the present, which consisted of me in a compartment with several other first years.

"Oh, I'm so glad I'm not the only one who's new to all this," said Hermione, a girl with bushy brown hair, evidently to me, though I hadn't been listening to the conversation. "And transfiguration looks so complicated…"

I had to try hard restrain myself from saying "Oh no, it's not", and even more so from saying "Transfiguration? Piece of piss!"

"I looked at the books," said Neville anxiously. "And none of it makes any sense to me…"

"I'm sure it'll seem better when the teacher explains it in class," I said. "You never know, it could turn out to be the easiest subject."

"I doubt it," said Su Li. "I reckon potions will be a doddle; I help with my sis all the time, she's a healer at St Mungo's… that's a magical hospital… the biggest and best in Britain."

"You see what I mean?" said Hermione, starting to panic a little. "You already know about potions…!"

Su Li laughed.

"Hermione… I don't know any potions, the ones my sister makes are far too complicated for me! I just chop herbs and things like that. I like it, it's fun."

"And I'll probably be hopeless at everything," said Neville miserably.

"Oh, come on, Neville," I said. "It can't be that bad…"

At this point Neville started telling a story about the time he'd nearly destroyed the kitchen when helping his great aunt, against his grandmother's wishes, to make a scouring potion. Before he finished, though, he let out a screech and cried out that Trevor had gone. Do not worry, Trevor was not his little brother, but a rather ugly pet toad, and we spent the next five minutes turning our compartment upside down.

"It's no use, I don't think it's, I mean he's, here," Hermione finally voiced. "Why don't you and I, Neville, ask around, and Su and Natasha can stay here in case he turns up?"

"Ok…" Neville said, a lump rising in his throat.

"Yeah, we'll keep our eyes open," said Su Li, as they disappear. When they had gone she let out a little giggle. "They are a funny pair, aren't they?"

We thankfully engaged in a conversation without Hermione Granger's neurotic crises and Neville Longbottom's self-deprecations. I listened patiently to Su Li's description of everything she had ever heard about Hogwarts, and even managed to conjure up that distant feeling I had felt some two decades earlier when I was in the same situation. She was from Edinburgh, and we soon fell to comparing our capitals, each claiming superiority in a amicable and enthusiastic manner, but, I think, by the end of the conversation we had convinced both fallen for each other's argument.

We whiled away the hours as it grew dark, and soon the train began to slow down. Neville and Hermione had come back by this time, the poor boy crestfallen from not having found his toad. I said a few kind words, and the look it inspired on his face guaranteed a soft spot in my heart for him forever. On exiting the train, good old, oversized, scruffy Hagrid called out to the first years to follow him, and in minutes we were clambering into boats. We crossed the lake in a hushed silence, all of us staring up at the castle. Su and I exchanged a thrilled look look. It was the second time I had approached the school in this manner, and it was as electrifying and dread inspiring as it had been before.

And I suppose we come to the highlight of the evening on which I had really been focusing my fears on. The sorting. I wonder, to hats have a good memory for minds? Either way it did not matter, for I would undoubtedly have the memory of the first time that I had donned that old and decrepit hat down in the depths for the horrid thing to find.

We ascended some stairs and Professor McGonagall said a few words to which I did not pay attention, and then we filed out in a single line into the Great Hall. I looked up. There were the stars. I had liked the ceiling of the Great Hall, and it was a comforting distraction to the prospect of what was to come. I cast an eye around the familiar room, the house table, still in the same positions, and their students, many of whom looked familiar to me, the children of old schoolfellows, and then the teachers' tables. Hagrid caught my attention first, being so massive, but then I saw something that made my stomach jolt. Severus Snape. I had not thought about him being here. He was going to teach me! I was going to sit there pretending that I had not called him 'Daisy', copying down notes… I wondered what he taught.

"Cornfoot, Stephan," Professor McGonagall announced, after which a boy with a mass of curly hair scurried forth.

The Sorting had started already. I waited in silence, staring straight ahead of me. Christ. He was older. He was a real adult, not just a boy, young man at a stretch, barely out of Hogwarts as I remember him last. I glanced at the other teachers. Flitwick. Good old Flitwick. And Professor Dumbledore, his hair somehow seeming even whiter than it was all those years ago.

"Entwhistle, Kevin."

A new teacher that I recognised as being a seventh year when I had first arrived at Hogwarts, she had helped me find a lesson, and introduced herself as… what was it? Sprout. Of course, as always, the last Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher I had had was not there, I did not know which one was this year's guinea pig. It could very easily be Daisy… I mean _Professor_ Snape. He was very good at the subject. Oh what a novelty. If I was still Amy Greenwood and someone told me Professor Snape would one day teach a bunch of teenagers at Hogwarts I would have laughed and asked them to tell me another one.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."

F, G, H, I … J. It would not be long now. I glanced an eye over the tables, and by the looks of the students the houses were still sitting in the same places. I wondered whether I would be soon walking over to the table on the right like I had done last time I had been sorted. Somehow I did not like the idea. Life in Slytherin could be trying at times, especially when people found reasons for bitterness. I had not always been happy, but I suppose I could live with that. It was worse seeing other people unhappy. But for all I knew it could be like this in all the houses. It probably was, to some extent. And most people were happy there, and I was most of the time.

"Granger, Hermione."

The girl I had met on the train went forward. _She_ was sorted into Gryffindor. I did not think that Gryffindor was the place for me. Whether I was brave or not was not a part of the questions. I could not enter that house considering my experiences with some of its members. I nearly got expelled on several occasions, I am sure, because of one particular group of them, and I had a hunch that the motivation behind at least one of these incidents had been that very thing. For the hundredth time in the last few months, I wondered where these people were now, what they were doing, if they had children… To think that I could have had a family of my own by now... They could have been nearly old enough for Hogwarts themselves by now. I shivered, but in the middle of the shiver I was caught by something that nearly riveted me to the spot.

"Jeeves, Natasha."

_That's me_, I thought.

"Jeeves, _Natasha_," Professor McGonagall repeated with a little more emphasis, and a little less patience.

I snapped back into normal time and scurried forward, my stomach plummeting, and jammed the hat on my head.

_Don't tell_, I thought with all my might, willing the hat to hear me. _No need for that,_ came the voice of the hat, _I can tell that is the last thing you want. But I won't… You've been here before, haven't you? Interesting story… So, you're a Slytherin, are you? I was right about you… then. You don't what to go back, do you? Scared yourself, last time, didn't you? Heh. Well, I'll tell you one thing; you've changed a lot since I last looked into your head. You've gained a lot from life. Or lives. Heh heh heh._ I frowned and willed him to get on with it. _Oo, touchy, are we? Don't hurry me, I'm thinking. Not Gryffindor…? That makes this a little easier. Not Hufflepuff. Why? Because. Which means that you're in RAVENCLAW!_"

I yanked the hat off my head and staggered off to the table in the middle towards the right, the applause seeming a distant patter of rain in my head. I sat down next to the boy with curly hair, he shot me a grin and grabbed my hand.

"Stephan Cornfoot, but you can call me Steph," he said. "God, this is long, don't you think. I hope it ends ASAP."

I agreed with him, and the next name was called out. I looked over to the remaining first years lined up at the front of the Great Hall. I recognised the redheaded boy who was the brother of Fred and George, standing in line, and next to him… This was shock number two. It could have been Potter… James Potter, that is, only younger than I had ever seen him. It was like looking at a photograph of someone you knew very well that was taken before you knew him. I rubbed my eyes. So, James Potter had a son. I wondered whose it was… surely not Lily? Potter had had an infatuation with the girl since his fifth year until I last saw him, shortly after he left Hogwarts, and I could not see him ever changing that, but was not fond of him. But I would have liked to see James Potter again. I could not reminisce with him about old times, but it would be nice to see how he had changed, grown.

I do not remember much of the rest of the evening. Su Li, I was glad, joined me on the Ravenclaw table. We sang the school song and ate, and went up to the Ravenclaw tower. One thing I do remember is how pleased I was not to be down among the dungeons, and opening the window of our dormitory wide open and feeling the breeze on my face.


	4. Morning Revelations

**Chapter Four**

_**Morning Revelations**_

Bartemius Crouch Junior woke early the next morning. He opened the curtains around his four-poster bed and beamed out at the light and cheery room. He had not liked the train journey of the day before. Thankful to the kindness that had been shown him, he had seen his hosts behave in a way that he did not like, and he felt bad about inwardly criticising these people. The tension between his hosts and those boys who had joined in their conversation had made him uncomfortable and worried about what was in wait for him, but this tension had been eased when the Sorting Hat had not screamed out "Gryffindor!" or "Slytherin!", but "Hufflepuff," where, so the Hat had sung, he could find loyal and true friends. The tension had been lifter further when he been greeted with such warmth by both the new first years and the more experienced older years. He had been inundated with offers of help, with congratulations, and with friendly, if somewhat annoying, hands ruffling his hair.

But he still found himself in awe of the people he had met on that train. Though the aggression and dislike they had shown, these people had impressed on him a respect and interest and this was something he could not suppress, despite of the feeling that he should not mix with them. However, he doubted this would be a problem. From what he had heard from the older Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and Hufflepuffs tended not to mix, and as for Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, they were seldom on more than nodding terms as they passed in each other in the corridors.

He walked over to the window and looked at the pale morning sky in which a white sun blazed. It would be a while, he was sure, before anyone else would be up, and he doubted that breakfast would be on the table yet. He wondered over to his trunk, being careful not to make too much noise. He started to unpack his belongings; last night he had been too tired and too excited to do so. However, he had not been aware of this for long when he became aware of someone looking at him. Turning around, he saw a small figure sitting in an armchair across the room. Erebus Diggle was looking sleepily at him, his arms resting limply over the sides of the chair. He let rip an enormous yawn and smiled dreamily.

"Mornin'," he said happily. "I fell asleep in the chair. I couldn't sleep last night. I… I didn't frighten you, did I…?" he added, seeing Barty's surprise.

"Yes, a little," Barty said. "I didn't expect to… y'know."

There was a loud grumble and they both laughed.

"That was never your stomach?" asked Erebus. "Why don't you go down to breakfast?"

"Surely it's too early…?"

"Maybe, but you won't know unless you find out."

"Good point… you coming?"

"No… I'm going to get some sleeeeeeep!" Erebus said, stretching his arms up into the air.

Barty left a dozing Erebus in the dormitory, and set off for the Great Hall. After several wrong turns, one of them thanks to Peeves the poltergeist which led him outside Filch's rooms, he made it. Sure enough, the tables were already set with breakfast, and there was even somebody eating. It was the three boys that had been in the corridor the previous day, with another, round faced boy. They sat at the end of the Gryffindor table nearest the door, and when Barty walked through it, they looked around at him, before turning back. They huddled closer together and talked in low voices, the boy called Sirius Black shooting him glances at intervals.

Barty sat halfway down the Hufflepuff table and helped himself to some toast and strawberry jam. Another student entered that caused the group of four, and Barty, to turn around for a second time. Barty recognised Amy Greenwood, from the train, and he pretended not to have seen her. He weighed up in his mind whether to talk with her or not.

When Amy Greenwood had seen Bartemius Crouch Jr. in the Great Hall she moaned inwardly, hoping that he would not talk to her. He would just complicate things. Why Black and his friends wanted to talk to her in such privacy, she did not know, but she wanted to get over and done with it. She sat facing the four Gryffindors so that she could see when they had left. She ate hurriedly and sat sipping here tea, cupping the mug in her hands to warm them up. It was chilly early in the morning in the Great Hall.

She started to doze off, tired from her late night and early rise, her head nodding down onto her chest. A painful screeching noise startled her and her head shot upwards, looking around in shock. She saw Black holding onto his chair and he shoved it under the table, purposely repeating the screeching noise and looking at her meaningfully. The other three were getting up, and they moved towards the large double doors.

As they exited, Amy got up, downing the rest of her tea, and headed determinedly towards the door. She did not get far before a voice called her name.

"Amy!" said Crouch. "Amy! Hi, it's me, Barty, Bartemius Crouch Junior, remember?"

"Of course I remember," said Amy mildly, though internally she was quite irritated. "It was only yesterday we met."

"Er…yes," blushed Crouch. This was going worse, surprisingly, than he had expected. His shy nervousness had caused him to mess it up before he had started. He tried to make conversation. "I'm in Hufflepuff…"

"Yes I saw," interrupted Amy, eyeing the Gryffindors as they walked outside. "Look, Cr- Barty. Congratulations, and all, but I need to, uh, finish my holiday homework. I've a lot to do."

"Err, ok," stammered Barty as he watched Amy disappear down a flight of stairs, calling a farewell over her shoulder.

Amy rounded the corner and waited there until she felt confident that the first year had gone, and then reappeared out of the gloom. She crossed the Entrance Hall, as a group of Ravenclaws descended the stairs behind her, and walked out into the chilly morning air. She scoped out around the grounds that sat laid out in front of her, and saw Black, Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew standing in a tight knot among a small group of trees.

Amy approached them and saw Pettigrew notice her and notify the others, who turned around to greet her.

"Glad you could come, Amy," said Potter, smiling broadly in a way that made Amy think of crocodiles.

"Oh, so we're using first names, are we?" she said dryly.

"Oh, Amy, Amy," said Potter. "I think in the circumstances there's no need for formality. We want to create a friendly atmosphere."

"Cut the crap, _James_," Amy said. "Let's get down to business. What's this about?"

"Before we start," said Remus. "We need to tell you a secret, and you must promise not to tell _anyone_ what you're going to hear, and promise not to tell _anyone_ about what we want you to do, to help us with."

"Well, I could promise…" Amy mused.

"We need your word," Remus said bluntly.

"Well, I've only got _one_ word," she sneered. "I don't want to go round giving it to any old fool…"

"Do we have your word?" Sirius said through his teeth, gripping her upper arm.

"Yes, yes, you have my word," Amy gasped, and he let go of her. "Christ, I was only playing with you."

"Well it's not funny," Remus said quietly. "This is serious."

Amy looked at each of the Marauders and looked down at her shoes.

"Tell me, then," she said.

"You do, it Moony," said James. "It's your secret to tell."

Amy looked at Remus, whose face was grey and solemn. He drew his breath and spoke.

"I'm a werewolf," the boy flinched slightly as if expecting a violent reaction.

Amy looked uncomfortable.

"You what?" she said faintly. "You're not serious."

"Didn't I just say it was serious," Remus said, smiling slightly.

"That's… cool," said Amy, breathlessly.

"No, it's not," said Remus. "It's horrible."

"Sorry," Amy said, a little shamefully. "But… what's this got to do with me? What can I do."

"You can help us help him," said James. "We want to make things better for him. But we can't do that without risking becoming werewolves ourselves."

"Animals can't become werewolves," said Peter after James smiled at him.

There was a silence.

"You're kidding," Amy suddenly said. "You've got to be nuts. It's illegal! You do now _why_ it's illegal?"

"You know a lot about Animigi, then?" said Sirius slyly.

"Well, I read a book on it, and…" Amy paused. "_Yes_, I suppose I do. But I can't help you."

"Why not?" asked Peter.

"Because… I _can't_," she said, exasperated. "I haven't got the skills. I've only completed one year at Hogwarts, and…"

"…you can already do transfiguration that's years above that," Sirius interrupted. "I'd say you'd need to be in… which year, Jaimsie?"

"Oh, fifth year, at least," said James.

Amy could not help but feel her ego inflate, but she stuck to her ground. Why _her_? Their answer was simple. It was dangerous. They needed someone with ability, but also passion in the right quantity, so that they would do the job thoroughly. That is why they could not find some seventh year. Besides, a seventh year would be likely not to take them seriously.

"What's in it for me…?" Amy asked breathlessly, excited at the prospect of what she might be about to embark on. "And what reason is there for me to keep secret what we'd be doing?"

The boys exchanged looks and James gave Peter a nudge, which caused him to stumble forward a little. He withdrew a piece of parchment from his pocket and gave it to Amy, a look of what seemed like apology in his eyes. Amy took the note, unfolded it and read it. She looked up at her audience, and then ripped it into several pieces and put it into her pocket.

"I don't believe you'd do anything like that," she said levelly. "But I don't want to risk it."

"You have to understand," said Remus. "We're not doing this maliciously. It's insurance, you see."

"Yes," Amy said in a dull voice.

They walked back towards the castle in silence, but as they approached the school Sirius turned to Amy.

"I'd keep away from my brother, if I were you," said Sirius. "He's no good. What I mean is," Sirius quickly added when he saw Amy's face, "he's no good to you. He has some… rather _extreme_ views, about, well, your kind, if you don't mind me saying. He gets it from our parents."

Before Amy could answer, they mounted the steps up to the Entrance Hall, and Sirius melted into the crowd.


End file.
